


Fallen Star

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: After Season 3 up to GP, Canon-Typical Violence, Gauda Prime Fix-It, Gen, Missing Season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake and Jenna were separated from <i>Liberator</i> at the end of Season 3. Blake shows up at the end of Season 4 for a really badly carried out reunion with Avon and Avon's crew.</p><p>What happened to Blake and Jenna in the intervening time? How did they wind up on the end of nowhere planet Gauda Prime, leading a ragged group of rebels, with Blake playing an ice-cold bounty hunter? Canon doesn't say, so I filled it in. Jenna stays by Blake and does her best to make sure the rebellion doesn't eat him alive. Jenna's very good at surviving, never doubt that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Star

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Star One is gone," Jenna said quietly, her tone more out of consideration for others than concealment. It wasn't a secret, after all. If Blake hadn't been stuck in his hospital bed, he could have heard the gossip directly. "Federation officers weren't as careful as they might have been during the battle. That slipped out on an open frequency. Of course, no one knows exactly what Star One is, but it sounded important and mysterious, so they're all talking about it."

Jevron's hospital wasn't a patch on _Liberator_ 's med-unit, but she was glad to get Blake to it. His wound had opened up during the rough life-pod ride and he'd been in bad shape. Fortunately, she'd slaved her pod to his, and landed nearby. She'd broken several nails clawing open the warped hatch of his pod, then found a friendly hunter willing to ferry them to what passed for civilization. Blake was stabilized now, and she had gone out to gather information. "The Andromedan fleet has been destroyed. Rumor is most of the Federation fleet went with it. They aren't sure whether they're happy about that or not. There's talk about self-rule, but they've no idea where to start forming a government."

Blake stared blankly ahead, as if he didn't believe his fight was over, that he'd won.

"Will you at least nod once in a while?" Jenna said, impatiently.

"Sorry, Jenna," Blake said, finally looking at her. He sighed and ran his right hand through his hair. His left was immobilized in a sling against his chest to keep him from aggravating his shoulder wound. "I just can't take it all in yet. Is it over? Is it really, finally done?"

Jenna shook her head. "I don't know, Roj." She caught his hand. "I hope so, for your sake."

Blake gave her a tired smile. "I don't know what I would have done without you." He squeezed her hand. Then he looked down at their linked hands and frowned, noticing something missing. "Our bracelets? Where are they?"

"It's all right. I've got them, safe."

Blake nodded. "All right, you keep watch, then." His head lolled. "They've given me something. I'm not very lucid, I'm afraid."

"Sleep. I'll be back later." Jenna stayed until Blake was relaxed and breathing evenly in the deep rhythms of sleep. Then she left, intending to find a secluded corner in which to attempt to signal _Liberator_. She'd tried before, but had no response. The ship might still be repairing itself. She refused to think that it had been destroyed. No, she just had to be patient.

***

"Renounce! Renounce! No, never! The Federation is evil. I will destroy it! I will!" 

Jenna heard Blake's yells the instant she entered the ward. "Oh, no." The old dream had come back. Even though Orac had erased his programming, sometimes when he was very tired and discouraged, the nightmare returned. Why should it happen now, though? This was the closest he'd come to victory. She didn't quite break into a run. 

Nearing his bed, she paused. She was too late. There were several orderlies gathered around Blake's bed, deferring to a hard-faced man in a blood-stained Federation officer's uniform. He appeared fit, so the blood probably belonged to one of his men. Just what she needed, a conscientious officer, visiting his injured crew. A lucky conscientious officer, who stumbled over the galaxy's most wanted rebel. She ducked behind a screen, glancing at the occupant of the shielded bed. A corpse. She grimaced, but stayed put. The hospital was jammed with wounded Federation troopers, mostly life-capsule escapees, like herself and Blake. Her hands clenched, uselessly- helplessly. Their guns were outside, hidden in the shrubbery surrounding the hospital flier park. If she was very lucky, she might be able to get to them in time to rescue Blake. And then she'd be on the run, without a ship, with a wounded man. Well, it wasn't much worse than their usual situation. 

She peeked out once more to reassure herself that they weren't planning to move Blake immediately. And both teleport communicators chimed. Loudly. She fumbled for the bracelets hidden in her blouse, but stopped when the screen was knocked over, and the Federation officer pulled her out by the arm. 

"You're with him, aren't you?"

"With who?" Jenna asked innocently.

The man smiled. "I keep up on the reward notices. You're Jenna Stannis. He's Roj Blake. And you're each worth a lot of credits."

"More if we're alive," Jenna said, eyes drawn to the sidearm aimed at her heart. He hadn't given up his weapon. 

"And the ship is worth more than the both of you." He motioned toward Blake. "They'll come for him, won't they?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," Jenna replied, moving as directed. Blake had stopped shouting, and appeared to be waking naturally. The bracelets' continued chiming probably had something to do with that. "Avon couldn't care less about either of us. He's probably quite happy to have _Liberator_ to himself."

"Well, we'll just try it and see." He grabbed her arm and twisted it up behind her back.

Jenna bit back a scream as the iron grip crushed down. 

"Blake!"

The military cadence in that shout brought Blake awake. He was drugged, and his pupils were dilated black. He tried to sit up, but the orderlies on either side pushed him flat. "If you don't want to see this pretty lady hurt, you'll contact your ship, and tell them to come here."

"What?" Blake was confused, and angry. He surged against the orderlies, then lay flat, panting. "Who are you?"

"Space-Major Luft. A loyal Federation officer," the man replied. He tore the front of Jenna's blouse open, and snatched the bracelets she had tucked inside. He threw one bracelet at Blake, who simply stared at it. "No tricks." He ground the muzzle of his gun against the side of Jenna's neck. "Or I'll collect on her body."

Blake picked up the bracelet, staring into the man's face all the while. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell them you're injured and you want them to pick you up."

Blake rubbed his thumb against the cool metal of the bracelet. " _Liberator_ was damaged. We had to abandon ship. There may not be anyone on board to teleport us up."

"Then who's signalling you?"

"Automatics."

"Then the automatics can teleport you up." Luft caught up Jenna's arm and twisted it viciously. "Don't take me for a fool. There must be some way for the ship to pick you up. You would never have left without making sure of that."

Blake sighed. "Avon had the remote teleport control with him."

"Avon, and not you?" The disbelief was blatant. "You're the leader."

"It's a computer device. Avon's our computer expert."

"Avon." The space-major thought a moment, then smiled. "I'd like to collect on him, too. All right. This is what you say. Tell your automatics to pick you up after the others. Be very careful. If I don't like what I hear, I'll cut my losses."

Blake took a breath, then hit the communicator button, silencing the chiming. "Zen. This is Blake. Are repairs underway?"

Zen answered, with a typical computer's unemotional tone. "Confirmed."

"I am on Jevron. In no immediate danger. Give the others priority on recall before you come for me."

"Confirmed."

Blake added, "It's rather a mess down here, with refugees from the war. Tell Avon..."

The officer snatched the bracelet, snapping off the communicator. "I think you were about to say something we might both regret."

***

Jenna paced. Ten steps up, turn, ten steps back. 

"You're getting me dizzy," Blake said, mildly.

"This is a neutral planet, you said. We were lucky to land here, you said." Jenna whirled. "It doesn't look very neutral to me."

Blake rubbed his hand over his face, tiredly. "We aren't on a Federation ship, or in prison."

"No, just locked up in hospital, waiting for extradition."

"Look on the bright side, Jenna. At least they've given us a private room."

"Private." Jenna glanced at the monitor in the corner. She could easily visualize that vulture of a Federation officer hunched over a screen, watching them. Watching her and laughing at her frustration. She went over to Blake and sat on the edge of his bed. She whispered, "We've got to get out of here."

Blake glanced up at the monitor. He shrugged. "How? I'm too weak to move," he said, although his eyes told her he was lying. "Never mind. It will all be over soon." He patted her hand.

"What do you mean?" she said, raising her voice. Blake was scheming, but what was he scheming?

"I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I couldn't let the Federation take us. Not alive."

"What!"

"There was a code. I never told you. Zen is bringing _Liberator_ here all right. With orders to use the Neutron Blasters on Jevron, centering the attack on the teleport bracelet coordinates. It should be quick and relatively painless."

"You can't be serious." Actually, he could. Jenna's throat went dry. Blake was capable of almost anything when it came to fighting the Federation.

"I was never more so. It's a shame about the hospital, but then, there are a lot of Federation troopers here. We'll have companions for our deaths."

Jenna whirled and went to the door, pounding on it with her fists. "HELP!" she shouted. "He's gone mad. He's going to get us all killed! Let me out of here." She hoped she'd read Blake's signals right and was following his lead.

The door opened. Their captor was there, looking pale and shaken. He held the gun on Jenna. "Stop it, Blake! Or she dies."

Blake laughed. "The whole point is we all die. And you can't stop it. Destroy the bracelets and Zen will simply bombard the entire planet. He's a very reliable computer, and thorough."

"You'd see the whole planet destroyed? Hundreds of thousands of people killed?"

"I've done worse." Blake gave Luft an even, calm stare. "I destroyed Star One. Do you know how many will die because of that? Nothing matters except the destruction of the Federation." His eyes brightened with rebel fervor. "A martyr to the Cause will only help the Rebellion."

"Not if they know what you've done. This has been recorded. I'll transmit it to the whole sector. Everyone will know Roj Blake is nothing more than a common mass murderer. Who will follow your Cause then?"

Blake frowned. "No one will believe you."

"They will with Jevron's smoking ruin as evidence." The officer held a teleport bracelet out to Blake. "Cancel your order."

Blake took the bracelet. "There's only one way," he said, slowly, as if reluctantly surrendering. "I'll have to be off-planet in order to convince Zen I've escaped. Otherwise it will assume I've been coerced into countermanding the attack." He crossed his arms, and smiled, as the man hesitated, obviously wondering if this was a bare-faced bluff. "No hurry," Blake said genially. 

Luft cursed, shoved Jenna in Blake's direction and stamped out of the room. Jenna caught herself before she crashed into the edge of Blake's bed. "Well, that was fun," she said, sourly, rubbing at her new bruises. 

Blake just smiled, leaving Jenna to wonder along with their captor. 

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "My mother wanted me to go into the family business, but I knew better. Space, adventure, action. That's what I wanted."

"And you got it." Blake's face crinkled into a grin. "What was the family business?"

"Footwear. Just think, I could be making a fortune, selling trooper's boots to the Federation by the ton."

"Money isn't everything." 

"Tell Avon that."

Blake lay back and shut his eyes. "Call me when our playmate returns, will you, Jenna?"

***

"UP!" 

Jenna had half dozed off herself by the time Luft returned, accompanied by several guards. The guards weren't particularly impressive. One limped, the second had a large bandage across half his face and singed patches in his hair, while the third held himself very stiffly, with one arm tight against his ribcage where strapping showed through the rents in his tunic. 

"GET UP!" the officer shouted again. 

"He's in a bad mood," Jenna warned Blake, taking his arm to help him up. 

"Who isn't?" Blake said, sourly. The guards prodded him into silence. 

Judging by the route they took, in dead silence, down the back corridors, and out a fire escape, it was apparent this wasn't a sanctioned prisoner transfer. There was a civilian ground transport waiting with the engine running and a very nervous looking young trooper behind the control panel. He was battered, too, with a huge, livid bruise running around the right side of his face, continuing down past the collar of his uniform.

Blake and Jenna were shoved into the passenger compartment, followed by Luft and two of the guards. It was so cramped that the third guard had to join the driver in the front. The passenger windows were opaqued, leaving the occupants nothing to do but stare at one another. Blake was impassive, and the guards were jumpy. It was not a pleasant ride for Jenna with a guard squeezed next to her, his body heat making her feel ill. It didn't help that her torn blouse kept gaping open. Bad enough to be a prisoner, without encouraging thoughts of rape. She was glad that the guards were all injured and that she wasn't alone. Blake's solid frame pressed against her on the other side was all that kept her from panicking.

It wasn't a long journey, but the oppressive atmosphere made it interminable. Jenna was relieved when the vehicle signaled arrival at its destination by coming to a lurching stop just before the engine noise shut off. Luft leaned forward. "You will get out of the vehicle, and go where my men take you. If you make any disturbance, they have orders to shoot, and shoot to kill. Don't think the higher reward for a live prisoner will earn you any mercy."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Blake said, his tone netting him a backhanded swipe across the face. He said, "Mercy? You don't know the meaning of the word." Luft's hand came up again, but halted at Blake's look of calm expectation. 

"I know one thing, Blake. You are my prisoner, and I can do anything I want with you. Or her." The man's eyes flicked to Jenna, then back to Blake. 

"But that won't get you _Liberator_ , will it?" Blake said, pleasantly. "I wonder if Zen has arrived. We can shield from detectors, you know. She could be in orbit, warming up the Neutron Blasters even as we speak." 

Luft showed his teeth, in an almost Avon show of frustrated temper. Even at that tense moment, Jenna couldn't help thinking that Blake did it deliberately; made people lose their tempers over petty issues, so they'd lose sight of the main point. Or did he? Avon accused Blake of being manipulative, but she hadn't agreed. Blake just couldn't see anything else or anyone else until his fight against the Federation was over. If only they hadn't landed on Jevron. She could have had Blake, if only... No. If they had landed on a friendly planet, he would have been off to Earth in a shot to lead the masses, first to fling himself against the battlements. And what would Blake do once it was over? Would he have any time in his life for the smuggler who had flown his ship for him, and fought battles for him? Or would it be : 'Thanks, old girl, don't call me, I'll call you?' Mentally, she shook herself. This was crazy. They were probably going to die in the very near future. She had to keep her mind on the present. Blake was her only ally, her only hope of survival. Mooning over him like a lovesick schoolchild was likely to get them both killed.

"Get out." The space-major had his temper under control, but it was a near thing. He flung the door open and shoved Jenna out into the waiting arms of the guard who'd ridden with the driver. She stiffened as his hands slipped into the neck opening of her blouse. He only had time for a quick grope before Blake, the officer and the other two guards joined them. She flushed, but kept quiet, observing her surroundings. They were at a spaceport. She'd known that before they stopped. She could feel it in her bones, the vibrations of ships landing and launching. So the officer had decided not to call Blake's bluff. If it was a bluff. 

If Blake had hoped to escape during the transfer to the ship, his hopes were futile. They were herded over to a Federation pursuit ship whose scorched and disfigured hull identified it as a survivor of the Andromedan war. Jenna eyed the craft with some misgivings. Some of the damaged areas were altogether too close to flight control circuitry. Not to mention the blackened pit where a plasma bolt generator used to be. Nasty, the radiation backlash you'd get when one of them blew. She doubted they'd had the time to decontaminate the ship, not with the dockyard crammed with the Federation's once finest along with the usual rim-runner's ships and local short-haulers. This was not going to be a pleasant cruise. Just thinking about the long-term effects of the radiation made her stomach curdle. 

They stopped on the ramp while Luft argued with one of the workers, out of earshot, but not out of sight. The worker looked exhausted, jumpsuit splotched with the multi-colored life-fluids of a starship. Rather like a surgeon after a long, difficult operation. From the way the man waved and pointed, he wasn't happy about the condition of the ship. That made at least two of them. Luft was adamant, and after throwing his hands up in the air, the worker walked away.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," Jenna whispered to Blake as they were hustled up the ramp.

***

Takeoff was as bad as Jenna expected. Maybe worse. She almost felt pity for the pilot; the same young man who'd driven them to the spaceport. He had developed a nervous twitch, and sweat beaded on his bruised face as he darted glances at the indicators, and made adjustments to things which ought to be self-regulating. She had never been inside a pursuit ship before. The flight deck was cramped, especially compared to _Liberator_ 's. She shuddered to think what might pass for prisoner's quarters. Probably a cubicle perched on top of the waste reclamation machinery. Well, she'd find out soon enough. They had reached open space. Time for Blake to call home.

Apparently, Luft agreed with her, for he thrust a teleport bracelet at Blake."Call your ship."

Blake accepted the bracelet. " _Liberator_. This is Blake. I have escaped. Abort attack on Jevron. Repeat, do not attack Jevron. Confirm."

"Confirmed." Zen's transmission seemed clearer, as if the ship was closer. Or more nearly repaired?

"What is the status of the crew?" Luft narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he allowed Blake's question. After all, he was also interested in the answer.

"Contact has been made with Roj Blake, Kerr Avon, Vila Restal and Cally. Vila Restal is injured, and requires priority pickup. Kerr Avon states that he is in no immediate danger. Cally is on a neutral vessel, en route to the planet Chenga. Roj Blake..."

"Yes, I know what I'm doing, thank you, Zen." Blake paused, hand over the communicator button, giving the officer a bland stare. "Anything you'd like me to add?"

Luft shook his head. "No." He took the bracelet back, held it in his hand for a moment, then dropped it on the deck and stamped on it. Blake's instinctive surge forward was halted by the raised sidearm of the singed guard. "I'm not taking any chances with you, Blake." He took out the second bracelet, dangled it for a second, then treated it as he had the first one. "You've evaded justice long enough. Someone else will have the pleasure of disposing of your ship."

"And collecting the reward?" Blake looked at the Federation troopers who were hovering around the flight deck. Having barely survived a war and then been recruited on a unofficial operation, their attitude to their superior was less subservient than usual. Doubtless they'd been promised a share in the reward. "Pity you didn't ask your men their opinion before you cheated them out of several million credits. It's a poor officer who doesn't take care of his men."

Blake had overstepped the bounds. Jenna wasn't sure how, but something snapped within Luft and his gun came up, muzzle slashing across Blake's face. Blake screamed, a hoarse, guttural sound, and clutched at his face. Jenna rushed forward to help him. Blood poured out between Blake's fingers and he cried, "My eye, my eye, you've blinded me!" He fell to his knees, pulling Jenna down with him, his bloodied hands fouling her blouse.

Luft moved forward, as if shocked by the results of his impulsive act. His gun dropped awkwardly at his side. "Let me see." For an instant Luft was between his prisoners and the nearest guard. Blake snatched Luft's gun, turning it and firing the instant his finger touched the trigger. 

Luft collapsed, his corpse shielding Blake and Jenna for just long enough. The gun whined in Blake's hand, targeting the pilot and the other trooper. When Blake rose to unsteady feet, he and Jenna were the only living things on the flight deck. "Take the controls," he said harshly, "There's at least two more of them."

"You'll need help." Jenna took the sidearm from the dead pilot and turned, only to find that Blake had already left. It was unnerving how silently he could move. She started after him, but habit made her look at the controls, and training made her stay. If Luft had intended to go anywhere in this ship, he was a madman. Probably he meant to return to Jevron immediately, and wait until he could arrange proper transport for his prize. That wasn't an option for them. Who knew how many Federation troopers had seen Blake? 

Blake returned after a nerve-wracking few minutes in which Jenna would have bitten her fingernails down to her elbows except for the fact that she didn't dare take her hands off the controls. He'd wrapped a torn-off length of Federation black around his head, covering the wound, and was breathing heavily.

"All right?" Jenna asked.

"We're alone," was all he said. He grunted, and bent to take the shoulders of the pilot. 

"What are you doing?"

"Tidying up. Out the airlock. Not exactly a star-orbit burial, but it's the best I can manage under the circumstances."

"Well, hurry. We've got problems."

"The ship?" Blake straightened, the pilot's head lolling grotesquely against him.

"The ship." Jenna was grim. "Nothing immediately life-threatening. Take care of them, first. And yourself. You look like hell, Blake."

Blake gave her a tired grin. "And you look splendid, as always." He turned, hauling the corpse slowly off the flight deck.

Jenna glanced down at her ripped, bloodied, blouse. "Now he notices," she muttered.

***

Blake wasn't much good as a nurse, but Jenna couldn't leave the controls for more than three minutes before warning sirens shrieked, so he had to tend his own wound. 

For a moment, Jenna stared at the white patch covering his left eye and saw Travis. A surge of nausea rose, and she shook her head, driving the image away. "There's a nav-comp over there," she motioned to the farthest position. "Find the nearest habitable planet. And Blake," she stopped him in mid-stride, "don't be picky."

"That bad?"

"Yes," she answered shortly. "If the radiation doesn't kill us, and the control linkages don't totally disintegrate, I estimate we have thirty-six hours before the life-support fails."

"Any other good news?" Blake said, as he frowned over the unfamiliar equipment.

"I have to visit the lav," she said with great feeling, and more than a little anger. "Only I can't leave the controls."

Blake winced. "The nearest habitable world- if you don't count Jevron -"

"I don't."

"Is Rustom. Twenty-three hours away at our current speed, according to this computer."

"If you trust it. I don't trust anything on this heap."

"Anything?" Blake said, that seductive burr back in his voice again. The one he used whenever Jenna was growing restless, and frustrated.

"Almost anything," Jenna said with a wan smile, but her heart wasn't in it. She was coming to the realization that Blake had been a rebel leader too long to simply return to a normal life. He had learned to live on the edge. His balance, his reflexes were attuned to that edge. She remembered how lost he'd been in the hospital, when the battle seemed won, and how readily he rose to the space-major's challenge. If she could ease him out of that life, offer perhaps a pirate's place, against the remnant of the Federation... she glanced at him. No, Blake wasn't destined to be a pirate, despite his wardrobe. 

She wished she had a choice, but she knew she'd stay by him, no matter what. Even if only as pilot and friend. Of course, this all depended on them getting to Rustom alive. She squirmed as bladder pressure became too great to ignore. She sighed. "Blake. There is one thing you can do for me."

"Yes?"

"I'm about to burst."

"I can't take over the controls, Jenna. I'm sorry."

"So am I, but that's not what I had in mind. Go back to wherever you got your bandage and look around. I'm sure you'll find something I can use. Oh, and you'd better bring back some stimulants." 

"Yes. I'll be right back." Briefly, Blake pressed his hand to her shoulder. "We'll make it."

"If you tell me to keep up a stiff upper lip, I'll belt you one."

Blake chuckled, but Jenna didn't dare.

***

It was a long twenty-three hours. Exhausting, embarrassing, and terrifying. And painful, Jenna added silently. Every muscle ached, either from constant use, or from prolonged disuse. She finally let her hands stop moving over the control panel, although they continued to twitch on their own.They were down. From what the remaining instruments registered Rustom was a moderately well-populated planet, so they ought to be able to blend into the populace until they could find passage. But first they had to get off this obviously Federation-owned pursuit ship. Before it blew up would be nice. Very rude to land on someone's doorstep and scatter chunks of yourself all over. She stood, pushing herself to her feet.

It was very hot and airless. She pulled weakly at the neckline of her tattered blouse. Funny, her legs felt boneless, all rubbery. "Blake?"

Blake whirled in time to catch her as she fell, limp into his arms. "Jenna?"

She smiled, and reached up to pat him on the cheek. " 's' all ri', jus' tired."

"Sleep, Jenna." Blake brushed his hand over her hair. "Everything will be all right."

_No, it won't,_ Jenna thought, _but it doesn't matter._

***

They both were suffering from radiation poisoning, and Blake's slashed face developed a persistent infection. Like it or not, they were forced to enter a charity hospital. Rustom was reasonably civilized. Even off-world itinerants with no identification were given medical care, but they were still wobbly on their feet when they were informed they would be working off their debt, length of time to be determined by the demand for their particular skills.

Jenna wound up serving her time 'piloting' a city public transport shuttle, while Blake was assigned a niche in a small appliance repair shop. They wore anklets linked to a central registry which had to be keyed at their workplace in the morning and at their assigned domicile in the evening, but beyond that, they were free. Free to walk, to sit in public places, to look in shop windows- basically, anything that was free. Their salaries were assigned to the hospital, less the cost of their food and lodging and clothing.

After they'd been a month on Rustom, they'd settled into a routine. Blake was restless, but Jenna was glad of the enforced stay. They'd been running on sheer nerve toward the end. Sometimes she missed the others- even Avon- and of course, _Liberator_ was never far from her thoughts, but she had Blake all to herself, and that was priceless.

***

"You know," Jenna said, sitting on a park bench with Blake, relaxing after work, "I figure at the rate we're going, we'll be paid off in five more months."

"Or we could escape," Blake said, as he crumbled bread and tossed it to the squirrel-like rodents that filled the park. 

"We could. But I wouldn't feel right about it. After all, they did save our lives."

Blake gave Jenna a sideways glance, his damaged eyelid drooping. If he'd wanted to add a few months servitude, the hospital had offered him the services of a plastic surgeon. He'd declined. "But what of the rebellion?"

"What of it?" Jenna said sharply. "You don't really think everything stops just because you're not there to wave the flag. You're not the only leader."

"But one of the most visible." He rubbed his chin and sighed. "On _Liberator_ we gave others hope. Let them see it was possible to hurt the Federation. Let them realize there was a chance for liberty. I can't give up now."

"Without _Liberator_ , what can we do?"

"We can fight, Jenna."

"At the moment, I'm quite happy to be driving a 'bus'." At the wounded look Blake gave her, she relented and said, "But I expect to be bored with that very soon."

Blake gave her a comradely pat on the shoulder and returned to feeding the squirrels. "I've been asking around. While Rustom is officially neutral, there are a few people who see the Federation as a threat. They're not rebels, but there is a possibility they'll help us. I've arranged a meeting."

"When?"

"Tonight. In about two hours. Will you come?"

Jenna looked thoughtful. "We'll miss the boarding-house meal. You certainly know how to tempt a woman."

Blake chuckled.

***

This group wasn't composed of Blake's usual bright-eyed, dedicated, loyal followers. They were pretentious, vain and cowardly, in Jenna's opinion. But since she and Blake were outnumbered, she kept her opinion to herself. The meeting was held in the basement of the housing complex belonging to one of the members. No underprivileged, starving masses yearning to throw off the yoke of servitude here. She got the impression that she'd stumbled into a Chamber of Commerce meeting. She was surrounded by flashy suits, elaborate hair-styles (more so on the men than the women), and clashing scents as expensive colognes vied with expensive perfumes. Boarding-house cabbage stew was a more honest aroma.

One of the longer-winded speakers had risen to his feet- after being duly recognized by the chair- and begun another shrill polemic. "But I say, can we take the chance? Blake's very name is synonymous with disaster. Look at what's happened in this sector alone. He set off an intergalactic war..."

Jenna interrupted, unable to listen to this spineless wonder any longer, "He did not start the war. A Federation officer did that, one of their own gone mad. If _Liberator_ hadn't been there to hold the line, you'd probably all be hanging in an alien's meat locker today." And small loss, she thought to herself.

Blake put a hand up. "Jenna."

Reluctantly, she sat down and shut up. Blake could placate these fools all he liked, but they were a useless bunch.

Blake stood. "As Jenna has said, I did not start the war. Nor did I create the conditions in the Federation that made rebellion inevitable."

"No, but you draw trouble." Another person rose, an older woman in a pin-striped gown. "Whether you mean to, or not. I've heard terrible things are happening on the Federated Worlds recently. Their central computer control was destroyed during the war." She held up her hand, seeing Blake about to speak, and said, "I don't blame you. Even if you did it, how could you know what the results would be?"

Blake was silent, but Jenna remembered Avon- Avon of all people- standing before Blake on the flight deck to warn him of the carnage that would result from Star One's destruction. And Blake would have done it, if not for the greater threat of the Andromedan invasion. That was small comfort for her now. Blake hadn't done it. But he had come so very close.

"We used to get fruit from Palermo and exotic woods from Cestus three. Now one's a desert and the other's a quagmire."

There were nods and sage cries of 'bad business, that'. 

"And on the domed mining asteroids..." her voice dropped to a bare whisper, "they suffocated. I saw vids. And not just the ones the Federation put out. We had heard distress calls, and sent our people to the nearest ones. But they arrived too late." She shook her head. "Your intentions may be good, Blake, but the cost is too high."

"The cost of freedom is always high," Blake said.

"If you and your allies pay, that is one thing. There were children in that dome. Children who had never heard of Roj Blake. We have children, too."

"Maybe we should turn him in to the Federation," one man suggested. He didn't seem happy about the idea, but he was frightened.

Blake's eyes went cold. "If you do, then you are no better than them."

"He's right," came another voice from the crowd. "It would be murder."

The chair banged the gavel to quell the gathering babble as people began arguing with their neighbors. "Stop! We will have order." When silence descended, he banged the gavel again. "As I see it, we have three choices. We may admit Blake to our membership..." There was a concerted outcry of 'no' to that. The chairman frowned. "We may give him to his enemies..." There were more protests at that. "Or we may pay his way off our world, and back to his allies."

"Personally, I favor the last one," Jenna remarked, loud enough for the crowd to hear. 

The chairman continued, "We are a neutral planet. Our personal feelings about the Federation's treatment of its citizens and its territorial annexation policies notwithstanding, we dare not antagonize it. Neither, out of common humanity, can we ignore this courageous man's request for aid."

"Yes!" the crowd approved this speech.

"Then we are agreed? We will give Blake our contingency fund?"

There were no objections.

The meeting came to an end with almost indecent haste. Few of the group would meet Blake's eyes. The chairman handed Blake a small box and practically shoved the two of them out the door.

"Nice bunch," said Jenna, standing in the neatly swept alcove outside the basement entrance. Blake looked thoughtful rather than angry. 

"They're frightened. And they have reason to be. If the rebellion causes as much suffering as the Federation..."

"Now, don't you start that!" Jenna was alarmed. "Remember what happened the last time you went on a 'guilt trip'?"

Blake gave her a tired smile. "I remember."

"Besides, it wasn't your fault. Travis betrayed us to the Andromedans."

"I can't help thinking I could have prevented it. I knew he was insane, capable of almost anything, and yet I didn't kill him when I had the chance."

"I never did understand that," Jenna admitted. She took Blake's arm. "Let's get back to our happy little abode and count our blessings. I want off this planet."

"Yes." Blake looked up in the dark sky at the scattered stars. "We don't belong here. I wonder if we belong anywhere?"

"We belonged on _Liberator_." Jenna didn't like Blake's tone. He sounded lost and desolate. 

"I gave _Liberator_ to Avon."

"It was my ship, too, you know."

"You could go back," Blake said. "It might take a little time, but I'm sure we could get a message to Orac, or Zen. We still have the confirmation codes."

Jenna shook her head. " _Liberator_ wouldn't be the same without you." She grimaced. "Taking orders from Avon? Never."

***

The contingency fund was enough to pay their debts and get them third-class passage to a planet where Blake hoped to contact members of Avalon's resistance group. Jenna spent most of the voyage trying to shake Blake out of the doldrums, and the rest of the time trying to keep herself from following him. It wasn't easy. For one thing third-class cabins were depressingly tiny and gloomy, with nothing to do but sleep, watch the pre-selected vids that ran continuously, and brood. Frankly, the beds weren't so small that she didn't think of at least one more pleasant way to pass the time, but Blake was too sunk in self-imposed recriminations even to notice her increasingly blatant offers. 

Well, what did she expect? She'd pulled out all the stops on _Liberator_ , and the man never blinked. Avon had. Vila had. Even Gan had noticed her. But not Roj Blake. No, that would be admitting he was human and fallible. He had to be perfect, had to be right. Not only about his rebellion, but about everything else as well. She was sorry now that she hadn't taken any of the others up on their offers. She didn't love any of them, but a woman likes to be appreciated. And likes a little physical comfort from time to time. A pat on the shoulder and a kind word only go so far.

"Blake? Blake? Damn it, is there anyone in there, Blake!"

"Hmm?" Blake looked up. "What's the matter, Jenna?"

"What's the matter? What's the matter, he asks!" Jenna threw her hands up in disgust. "We are going to be landing soon. Would you mind telling me what we'll do then?"

"Contact Avalon, of course. You knew that."

"That's it? That's the whole plan?"

"What do you expect?" Blake snapped. "I can't make any plans until I find out how the rebellion is going. Avalon will be able to tell me where I'm needed most."

_You're needed most with me,_ Jenna thought. "And you'll just go where she says, and do what she tells you?"

"If that's what's best for the Cause, yes."

Jenna shook her head. Blake might think he could take Avalon's orders, but she knew him better than that.

***

Avalon was pleased to see Blake, but, Jenna suspected, a trifle wary of him. His charisma could complicate her leadership, confuse her people. Somehow, she doubted Avalon would allow him a free hand. When Blake found what use she intended to make of him, he balked.

Blake protested, "Speeches? Rallies? They're a waste of time. On Earth..."

"But you're not on Earth." Avalon pushed aside a data pad containing notes from field agents and leaned forward over the makeshift desk in her field office. "And you can best serve in recruitment. You're famous. Too famous to be going out on raids."

Blake looked at her well-worm fatigues. "I don't notice that stopping you." 

"They are my people. I have to lead them. Look, Blake, I'll be honest with you. You are too conspicuous, and the reward on your head is too tempting, even for my people. Sooner or later, someone will turn you in, and that betrayal will break the heart of the rebellion. I can't afford it. I can't afford you in my organization. 

"When you were on the _Liberator_ with your five crewmembers, it didn't matter. None of them could betray you for they had sizable bounties of their own. I know, know for a fact, that there are moles and sleepers in my organization. It's impossible to have large numbers of people without some being plants. I have reduced the damage any one traitor can do by compartmentalizing my groups, but taking you into any of the groups is simply an unacceptable risk."

"You're saying that I make a nice figurehead, but you don't want me. Can't use me."

Avalon shook her head. "I wish I could. Blake, you're a marvelous saboteur, a fine commander, an excellent strategian..."

"And totally useless." Blake leaned forward, palms flat on the desk, to meet Avalon's eyes. "Assign me a planet you've given up on and I'll recruit my own men, test their loyalty myself. If you won't, I'll do it on my own."

"One planet? Would you settle for that?" Avalon looked sceptical. "You're used to riding in, blasting the opposition and riding out again. Have you the stamina, the patience, to spend years on a single mission?"

"Yes. I've learned there are no quick solutions. If the fall of the Federation's central control and destruction of most of its space fleet isn't enough to topple it, then I must have been going at it all wrong. Give me a world. Choose the farthest, least important, world where the people have reason to hate the Federation. If I fail, it won't be the Roj Blake who led the _Liberator_ who fails, just another man fighting for what he believes in." He gave her a smile. "Avon has the _Liberator_ now. He'll draw the Federation's attention. They'll forget about me, soon enough."

"He'll only use it for piracy," Avalon said, face pinched as she considered the wasted potential.

Jenna wasn't sure she agreed. Avon could be contrary enough not to turn to piracy, simply because it was what everyone expected of him. On the other hand, neither could she visualize him as a rebel leader. She'd been silent, watching Avalon and Blake argue, but now she said, "I wouldn't underestimate Avon. Or Blake, either."

Avalon turned to Jenna. "I could use you. There aren't that many combat-trained pilots around."

"I'm with Blake."

"Yes. I see that." Avalon sighed. "All right. I'll find you a world, Blake. And some sort of ship for you, Jenna. It won't be much," she warned, "but I'll do the best I can." She looked down on her papers, and they knew they had been dismissed.

Avalon's second led them to their quarters. Somehow, Blake seemed diminished to Jenna, not because Avalon had turned him down, but because he had admitted he'd been wrong. Blake had never really admitted that before, not even to himself. It must have shaken him to realize it. She'd been wrong, and had her face pushed in it enough times that it no longer was an affront to her pride, but Blake had staked everything on being right. She remembered how he'd told Cally that he had to defeat the Federation to prove himself. He didn't have to prove anything to her. He was a good man, brave and compassionate and unshakable in his duty.

***

"I've found a world for you, Blake." Avalon handed Blake a records disk. "Gauda Prime. It has very little strategic value. The Federation declared it an open world fifteen years ago."

"An open world?" Blake, as an Earth-raised Alpha, knew little of the specifics of life in a Federation colony. He'd filled in a lot of information via Orac, but still had annoying gaps in his knowledge.

Jenna told him, "That's when the Federation throws out all the rules."

"There are rules?" Blake said, wryly.

"In most colonies, there is some sort of law, and most people generally live reasonably secure lives. Not very free, but at least you don't expect to be murdered in your bed. On open planets, anything goes, just so the Federation gets what they want. What do they want on this world, Avalon?"

"There is a mineral that was discovered after Gauda Prime was registered, and settled, as an agricultural colony. It has unique energy- deflecting characteristics. Theoretically, a ship sheathed in the refined form of the ore would be invulnerable to energy weapons. It's uncommon even on Gauda Prime and the farmers refused to allow the planet to be strip-mined, which is the only practical way of obtaining appreciable quantities of the ore. 

"Legally, the Federation has its hands tied. If they overturn the planet's charter there'd be protests. Besides, they like doing things according to their 'Rule of Law'. The Federation's solution was simple. Open the planet, and give the mining consortiums free rein. Word gets out. The planet is overrun with crimmos, sociopaths, and assorted monsters, all preying on the farmers. Officially, this is frowned on. Unofficially, the mining companies pay the murderers for each farm that suddenly becomes unoccupied. Then they buy the farm for back taxes."

Blake grimaced. "That sounds like the Federation. Efficient, and inhuman."

Avalon nodded. "It's a brutal world. The surviving farmers live in the forests like animals, raiding when they can, trying to disrupt the mines, killing crimmos whenever they catch one off-guard. I won't lie to you, Blake. I did send a team there. They didn't last a month. If you want to wait until I can come up with a better prospect, I'd understand."

"No." Blake's head was up, and Jenna could see he was glad of the difficulty of the mission. Was he perhaps considering it an acceptable form of suicide? Her blood ran cold. He had mulled over the tragedies caused by Star One's failing, and considered himself at fault, no matter what she said. If he really felt the deaths of millions was on his conscience, he might want some crimmo to murder him.

Blake continued, and Jenna felt a little better when he said, "If Gauda is still fighting after fifteen years, I should have no trouble finding just the sort of people we need. Tough, resourceful, and utterly opposed to the Federation."

Avalon seemed relieved by Blake's attitude. "Hopefully, you'll be able to establish a base and begin training a cadre within a year."

"Then infiltrate the local government and apply for a return to normal status."

"Why?" Jenna asked. "I should think once things returned to normal, you'd lose your recruits."

"Would I? Think of it, Jenna. Fifteen years they've been fighting. The younger ones wouldn't know how to farm, even if there was anything left of their land. They'll have learned to hate, and lived to destroy their enemies. You don't just turn your back on that and walk away. But once relations are normalized, there will be more trade and it will be easier to carry our fight to other worlds."

"So we're agreed?" Avalon said, briskly.

"Yes." Blake glanced at Jenna, taking her nod as assent. 

"Your ship is fueled and ready."

Jenna said, "You were that sure of us?"

"That sure of Blake." Avalon smiled. "Good luck on Gauda Prime."

***

"It's a ship," was Jenna's only remark on seeing the battered freighter that Avalon had supplied. "At least, it used to be." After a thorough examination, she told Blake, "I've seen worse. The last owner was clever. You don't want to appear prosperous enough to attract thieves, so they left the outside a mess, but mechanically, it's sound. And faster than a ship of its class ought to be. It won't get us there in style, but it will get us there."

"That's all we can ask."

"That may be all you can ask, but I have higher ambitions, myself." She gazed at the ship, then shook her head. "I can't bring myself to name this beast, not after _Liberator_ ,but it will need to be called something."

"It already has a name," Blake said, pointing to a fading patch of paint which appeared to have been lettering.

Jenna glanced at the patch, then laughed. "That's not a name. It's a service hatch." She pushed both thumbs into the depression that circled the lettering, and moved her hands slightly clockwise. The hatch opened smoothly, revealing a crawl space leading to the external control circuitry for atmospheric maneuvering. "Because it's so simple to open, even without tools, it's called a 'Booby Hatch'. That's what's painted on it." She considered. "Actually, that's not a bad name, considering how loony this whole idea is."

Blake chuckled. "All right, 'Booby Hatch' it is."

"Hatch for short."

***

Hatch took them to Gauda Prime without incident. Unless you count the fact that the food synthesizer's programming stuck and for the last week of the journey they lived on Welsh Rarebit. Even Blake, who was fond of it, grew very weary of melted cheese. Jenna hated it to begin with, and had only requested it the first time as a treat for him. On the bright side, she lost two kilos.

***

Blake gazed out the open cargo hold door, face impassive, heavy shock-rifle clasped casually in his arms. His size and scarred face were assets on Gauda Prime. "Hey, you. Leave it!" he shouted, driving off yet another of the lurking crimmos away from the ship. 

The planet was everything they'd been led to believe. Even in the spaceport, where the mining corporations had a vested interest in maintaining the peace, crimmos roamed freely, looking for trouble. Guards could be hired to watch your ship and protect your person, but they weren't much more honest than the crimmos. Most traders either transshipped cargo in orbit or stood watch over their goods themselves until they could arrange a buyer. Under those conditions, offworld traders were few and far between, making their goods outrageously expensive. The commonplace items that Avalon had donated to fill Hatch's hold would bring enough credits from the mine employees to purchase supplies for the farmers Blake hoped to recruit. For supplies, read 'guns and ammunition'. 

"Blake? Any trouble?" Jenna came up behind Blake, still yawning. It was her turn on watch. She'd be glad when everything was sold and she could return to space. Except that the Rarebit situation hadn't improved. She'd have to lay in a stock of emergency rations, once she got to a world civilized enough that she'd trust the food. Gauda's cuisine was nearly as dangerous as its inhabitants.

"No," he replied. "Just the usual." He slipped the rifle into carry position over his shoulder. "The commissary agent from BlueSkies Mining is coming to pick up the last of our cargo."

"Amazing." Jenna shook her head. "Tinklewood fishing poles, ugly all-weather cloaks, and educational toys that go 'bang'. No one else would have them on a bet."

"Don't look now," Blake said softly, "but there's another one."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jenna spotted a drably dressed figure half-crawling through the rubble of broken crates that littered the dock. "Not a crimmo," she said, decisively. "Just another..." but she was talking to herself. Blake had hopped off the low ramp, and was running. "Blake!" she yelled, bringing her own handgun up. She steadied her arm, and waited, silently cursing Blake. The human rodents on this planet were worse than the animal version. 

Blake caught the figure easily enough, and dragged his prey back to the ship, squealing and twisting in his grip very much like a trapped rat. "Jenna, I'm taking our friend inside for a little chat." He shook the creature until its jaws snapped and it whimpered, eyes rolling white with terror. "Be quiet," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"And you're not going alone." Jenna joined Blake inside and triggered the locking mechanism on the hatch. What Blake held was dirty and scrawny, but it was a man, a desperate one. Never paid to underestimate a desperate man.

Blake dragged the man to the small area that served the Hatch as dining room. He shoved the man toward the bench that rested beside their one scuffed table. "Sit," he ordered, turning his back on the man without waiting to see if he was obeyed.

Jenna watched closely. The man shivered and his hand twitched, moving toward his middle. "Think again, friend," Jenna said.

The hand dropped back to his side. He lifted his head, and for an instant bright blue eyes met Jenna's. She recoiled at the fear in them. Then his head drooped, shaggy hair the color of mud covering his features once more as the man crouched on the seat Blake had indicated. There had been something more than fear in that look. Almost intelligence. Perhaps Blake's instincts had been right.

"I hope you like Welsh Rarebit," Blake said cheerfully. "It's all we can get out of the synthesizer." He deposited a heaping plate of hot, gooey cheese in front of the startled man. "Go ahead. It's all right."

The man stared for another second, then started eating. Eating was too mild a word for what he did. He opened his mouth wide and pushed in handfuls of food, swallowing as fast as humanly possible. 

"Slow down. It's yours."

The man gulped, then said bitterly, "Nothing is mine." His voice was clearer and more cultured than Jenna would have expected. 

"You were one of the farmers?" Jenna asked, curious.

"Not quite. I was a farmer's son." The man slowed his eating as he saw his captors relax at that. "You want a story? Is that the price of the meal? Do you enjoy listening to other people's tales of woe?"

Blake opened his mouth to deny it, but the man continued, "I don't mind. Why should I mind?" He shrugged. He was making inroads on the cheese even as he spoke. "We had a middle-sized farm. Grew specialty vegetables, fancy berries, only the rarest types. The air was so sweet, like perfume, in the spring when the trees blossomed. Especially the Tylerian Pomegranate. My parents were the only ones who could raise them here. He was a geneticist and she was an organic chemist." He smiled at Jenna's expression. "There's more to a farm than spreading fertilizer and hoeing weeds. Although there's plenty of that, too." His smile faded. "That's why I left. I was meant for better things." From the grief in his voice, Jenna was glad she couldn't see his eyes at the moment. "I was at university on another world when the Federation declared GP an open planet. They said it would boost the economy, encourage entrepreneurs. It did that all right. I became concerned when I stopped getting news from home. Stopped getting the little viscards with father showing off his latest experimental ovine / ophidian cross. He was trying to develop an animal that would shed its own wool. He was too soft-hearted to shear them, you see."

Blake and Jenna had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded as if he'd had a happy family life. Once.

"I convinced myself that they had gotten involved in one of their joint experiments and simply forgot to write. By the time I got my degree and returned home, it was long over. The farm was gone. Just that, gone. The buildings burned to ash, the livestock slaughtered and rotting in their pens, even the Tylerians had been uprooted and left to wither. I never did find my parent's bodies. I can only hope it was over quickly for them.

"For a while, I thought it was all some obscene bureaucratic mistake and tried to find someone who cared, someone who would stop the horror. But there was no one. I never learned to fight, so I knew joining the ones who did fight would be suicide. I shouldn't have minded that if I could have gotten them first. Not the crimmos. They're animals, but they don't think, they never planned GP's murder. The Federation did that. If I could destroy the Federation, then I could die happy. " He had finished eating, and waited patiently for whatever would come next. Telling his story seemed to have induced a fatalism in him.

"What's your name?" Blake asked.

"Oh, oh, that. Sorry. Haven't been doing much socializing lately. My name's Deva. Jon Deva."

"Tell me, Deva," Blake said, "what was it you studied at university?"

"Computers," the man replied, stiffly. His appearance was so at odds with the image generated by that single word, that he no doubt expected ridicule.

"Computers." Blake grinned and looked at Jenna. "I think we have an important question to ask our new friend.

Jenna smiled and said, "Yes. Deva, do you know anything about food synthesizers?"

They laughed, and Deva flinched. 

"It's all right," Blake said. "We're not laughing at you. We'd like you to join us."

"Why?" Deva asked, wariness evident in his pose. "I'm not a spacer. I do - well, I did- know computers, but it hardly seems worthwhile having a full -time comp-tech on a ship of this size. I doubt I'd be worth my keep to you."

"I had another ship once," Blake said. "And a full-time computer technician." He gave Deva another grin. "Let's just say I got used to the luxury."

"Don't tease the man, Blake," Jenna said. 

Blake glanced at Jenna, then nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry, Deva. My first ship was called the _Liberator_. Have you heard of it?"

" _Liberator_ , " Deva whispered. "Blake. You're that Blake." Without warning his eyes turned up, whites showing, and he collapsed in a dead faint. 

"I guess he heard of you," Jenna said, before she went for a stimulant.

***

"No one notices me," Deva said later, after he'd been cleaned up and given fresh clothes. They didn't fit, but he was still grateful for them. "Sometimes I'd hear things. The miners are all for the Federation. Mostly because they are very well paid. They have to be, to make up for living on GP these days. That was how I heard about you, and the _Liberator_. What happened to it?" Deva looked around at Hatch's painfully neat, cramped quarters. "Or is this an undercover mission, with _Liberator_ waiting to pick you up?"

Blake sighed. "No. I don't have _Liberator_ any more. She's still fighting the Federation, though."

"You hope," Jenna put in.

"Avon doesn't have any choice, Jenna. They'll chase him, and he'll have to fight to survive. One thing about Avon, he's a survivor." Blake turned his attention back to Deva. "I need to contact the local resistance."

"There isn't any." Deva shook his head. "No organization. No one to contact.We're just hitting back whenever we see a chance, one by one. The companies lose a lot of men and equipment every time they open a new mine. Of course, it's not just us. Sometimes the crimmos get tired of hunting us, and turn on their masters. They don't care whether they steal, or get paid blood money. Frankly, I don't know how you expect to tell the rebels from the crimmos."

Blake rubbed his chin. "One at a time."

"I don't understand."

"The mines pay bounties, you said."

"Yes. They call us murderers and they offer rewards for our capture. Dead or alive. We're worth more alive, because they like to interrogate us."

"Then I become a bounty hunter, just another hungry crimmo. Only before I bring in my prisoners, I test them. They can have the rogue crimmos, but the rebels are mine."

"That's crazy!" Jenna said. "You're going to hunt rebels? They'll kill you before you get a chance to tell them who you are!"

" I don't think so." 

"No, Blake," Deva said, voice not quite steady. "You can't take the chance. You're too valuable to the rebellion. Let me do it."

Blake said, gently. "Look at me." Blake stared at Jenna, then at Deva, until their eyes dropped, no longer able to meet the bleak, endless despair behind his eyes. "I can be a crimmo. Can you say the same?"

Jenna protested, "There must be another way."

"Probably. If we had the resources. Jenna. This is my last chance. I feel it. If I can't free one world from the Federation then I might as well die here. This is what my life has been leading up to. I won't turn my back on my fate."

"Fate? You sound like Cally with her alien mysticism. You make your own destiny, Blake. That's what I've always believed. That's what I live by."

Blake gazed at her, and the pain in those world-weary eyes made her catch her breath. "Gauda Prime is my destiny. I've run far enough. I'm not running any more. Either we win here, or I die here. There are no options."

"Just because Avalon is jealous..."

"It has nothing to do with Avalon. She was right. I have allowed myself to become a symbol of the rebellion. To the point that my death could disrupt it. I can't allow that. I will step out of the limelight and be forgotten, willingly, if that is best for the cause. The people must be free. All people, everywhere. At the moment, the only way I can fight is one man at a time, on this world." Blake folded his arms and turned his back on both of them. "It will be different once Avon comes."

"Avon?" Jenna came forward, grabbed Blake's arms and tried to shake him. "Avon's half the galaxy away, making a pirate empire for himself. He hasn't even thought about you. He doesn't give a damn about you. And he certainly isn't looking for you."

"You're wrong. About Avon. And about me. He isn't quite as black as you've painted him and I'm not as pure. Look hard enough, and you'll see we're very much alike. He'll come to me. Maybe not today, nor this month, nor this year. But he'll come." Gently Blake disengaged himself from her grip, and walked away.

"He's mad," Jenna spoke softly, to herself.

"A divine madness," Deva added. "It will do no good to argue with him. The best we can do is try to support him, keep him from taking too many chances."

Jenna gave Deva a disbelieving stare. "You've known Blake for an hour. Do you honestly think we can keep him from taking too many chances?"

"No. But we can try."

***

Jenna didn't like Blake in his bounty hunter rig.She hadn't liked it in the beginning when he didn't know what he was doing, and she was sure he'd die every time he went after another bounty. Now he was the polished professional, so much so that she almost pitied the crimmos he hunted and that was even worse. As he put on the filthy leathers and took up the brutal gun his face settled into a cold, uncaring mask. It was frightening, how easily he slipped into that persona. Sometimes he didn't even seem to recognize her. That was the most frightening of all. 

"Blake, can't you let go of the bounty hunter routine?" She put out a hand to touch, but he moved, with the animal elusiveness that was part of his 'costume', just far enough to one side that her hand fell short of his sleeve. "There's no need for it anymore. We have a base." She waved at the surroundings. "We have plenty of men. And if you really think we need to keep recruiting this way, let some of them take over. They're willing, any and all of them."

"Too young. " Blake shook his head. "There are enough other ways for them to die. I know the woods, and the men I hunt. It's safer for me than it would be for them. Can't you let an old rebel have his fun?"

"Fun!" Jenna turned and would have stalked away, but Blake's hand came to rest on her shoulder. Blake's hand. Not the hunter. The hunter hadn't an ounce of kindness or tenderness in him.

"Jenna." Soft, oh so soft. That damnable burr that drew her, melted her resistance and wiped out her common sense. "It won't be long now, Jenna."

"Why? What are you planning?" Jenna turned back, eyes narrowed. Blake always did play it close. Too close for those nearest to him. One of these days poor Deva was going to have a nervous breakdown over one of Blake's antics.

"Not what I'm planning. Avon."

"It's always Avon! Face facts, Blake, it's been nearly two years. He's not coming. I said it two years ago, and I'm right. You know that."

"As you were right about him turning to piracy? He's been fighting the Federation all along."

"And losing." Jenna was angry. Just thinking about Avon made her furious. Not only because Blake had been waiting so patiently for him, like a forgotten child, but because he'd lost her beloved _Liberator_. The details were sketchy, like everything else they heard, filtered through Avalon's sources in the Federation and elsewhere, but they were quite sure that _Liberator_ was gone, and high-and-mighty Kerr Avon was reduced to captaining a mere planet-hopper. 

"And losing," Blake admitted. "But even his losses aid the rebellion. He keeps interfering with the Federation and they are forced to concentrate a ridiculous amount of manpower and thought on him." Blake grinned. "He has a way of getting under your skin. No one ignores him."

"You're just obsessed with him. I swear since the day we've arrived you've just been marking time, waiting for your precious Avon. What do you think he's going to do, wave a magic wand and bring back _Liberator_ and the good old days?"

"He'll bring Orac, for one thing."

Jenna snorted, not very ladylike, but then she wasn't feeling very ladylike. "If Orac is so wonderful, why is Avon losing so often? Or maybe he doesn't have Orac. Maybe somewhere along the line, it was lost, or stolen, or destroyed. Won't you feel a fool if Avon shows up empty handed?"

"No. I'd be glad to see him, whether or not he was any use to me. You and the rest of _Liberator_ 's crew are the only family I can hope to be reunited with. At least in this life."

"I wouldn't be so quick to claim Avon as a relative. Or Vila."

"Wouldn't you? I liked them, Jenna. Even when Vila was playing coward, and Avon was sulking. Even then, I liked them. I miss them. Don't you?"

"I miss Cally," Jenna said, coldly. "And the last I'd heard no one has seen her for over a year. Avon got her killed and I'll wager he never shed a tear."

"He might not have. And if he didn't then I'm sorry for him. Cally was fond of him. The times she wasn't furious with him."

"That fondness did her a lot of good, didn't it? Oh, why do I bother talking to you? You're going to do as you please no matter what I say."

"Jenna." She steeled herself against that seductive voice and continued walking, heading for the flier bay. She was going to get Hatch and take off, destination: Away. Blake needed someone to stand up to him., but it wasn't her. Someone he'd have to stop and listen to, at least long enough to break his momentum and force him to think. Avon once told her that Blake was an idealist and couldn't afford to think. Bitterly, she had come to realize that Avon was perhaps the only person who could give Blake pause. Like it or not, Blake without Avon wasn't the same man. 

She was walking, quite calmly, she thought. She didn't note the people who stepped hastily aside, clearing her a path without a word. A hand on her shoulder caught her and she whirled, "Blake, I don't... Oh, Deva. What do you want?"

"And I'm pleased to see you, too." Deva tossed his overlong, reddish hair back out of his eyes, and smiled. But it didn't reach his eyes. He was worried too.

"Sorry. Blake's been getting to me, I guess." She resumed her walk, a little slower now, with Deva at her side. People were still giving them a wide berth. It almost amused her, now that she noticed.

"He won't stop," Deva said, knowing what bothered her. "No matter how much we nag him."

"There's no reason for him to keep doing this. The woods are full of crimmos and Federation spies, now that we're close to regaining normal status. He hasn't brought in one recruit in his last dozen captures. He has to see that this is suicidal. "

"I know." Deva shivered. "He insists he has to do it, has to test everyone himself. Can't he trust us? Didn't he ever trust anyone?"

"Once. He trusted a black-hearted, smart-mouthed, arrogant, cross between a computer chip and a cactus. He still does." Her fists clenched at her sides. "You and I love him, but that's not enough. He's still waiting for Avon."

"Avon." Deva rolled the name over on his tongue, tasting it. Testing it. "I have heard rumors about Avon. Nasty ones. He sounds very unstable, and dangerous."

"He's also brilliant, and hard as diamond. So is Blake. Maybe we should throw the two of them into a chamber and let them knock the rough edges off each other."

"That might be fatal."

"Yes. But so is this." She sighed. "I can't stand to watch any longer. I'm taking Hatch for a supply run. It's best I go soon, anyway. They're tightening security at the port. Next step will probably be an orbital blockade. The powers that be want to be very sure no crimmo escapes. Poor bastards," she said without feeling it, "Like vicious dogs, bought to guard your property, then put down once the neighborhood improves and they're an embarrassment."

Deva walked in silence for several minutes, both of them brooding. Then, just as Jenna reached the flier bay, he said, "I could get a message to Avon. Ask him to come to Blake."

"Won't work. Not Avon. If Blake got down on his knees and begged, Avon might come to gloat, but not for any second-hand message."

"What if it wasn't a message, just something to let him know where Blake was, and maybe hint at something marvelous? Something to pique his curiosity. Blake always said Avon couldn't leave a mystery unsolved."

"And what if the Federation intercepts the message?"

"They can't. Not if I don't send it."

"Blake's been working you too hard, Deva."

"Orac. Think about Orac. It reads other computers, anywhere. Blake says it's been given a search list, words that attract its attention, so it will extract vital information and inform its owner. If I can put the proper message into GP's computer system, eventually it will get back to Avon."

"Eventually." Jenna pursed her lips. "All right. I haven't any better ideas myself. But I don't like it. Blake's changed, and I have no idea what Avon is like. This could blow up in our faces, especially when Avon realizes whatever 'marvelous' prize you dangle in front of him doesn't exist."

"We'll just have to be careful."

"Careful isn't enough. Think paranoid."

***

Jenna returned from her supply run in slightly better temper. She'd gotten a good deal on arms, enough to pay for more upgrades on Hatch. The exterior was still disgusting, but the parts that counted were in far better shape than any other ship of its class. She had toyed with the idea of getting a better ship, but that would mean acquiring a crew. Hatch was about the limit for a single person to operate. Blake had offered her any of his recruits, but none of them were spacers, and she hadn't the patience to break in an entire crew of groundhogs at once. Avalon had some qualified men in her group, but Jenna was more than reluctant to accept any more favors from her. 

Correction, she had returned in slightly better temper, but as she had predicted, the orbital blockade was in place when she arrived. She had a few sweaty moments before she got through to ground control and they called off the attack. It wasn't at all pleasant. Her adrenaline was still high hours later when she finished checking over the ship for damage and took a flier to Blake's base. This whole situation was getting out of hand. Blake should lay low until after the changeover to normal status. Federation observers would be coming out of the woodwork by now. Once everything was settled, he could carry on with the rest of his plan. She wasn't sure it would work, but it had to be better than hunting crimmos. 

The flier was on auto-pilot, following the standard random flight path to confuse anyone who tried to trail people back to the base. This gave her plenty of time to think about her close call, and Blake's increasingly close calls. The last time she'd contacted the base Blake had been alive, and his usual idiotic self, according to Deva's coded message. 

"Blake!" she yelled, coming through the tracking gallery in a high- flying fury. 

"He's not here."

"What?" It took Jenna a moment to come down far enough to see who had spoken to her. "Oh, hullo, Klyn. He's out on another run?"

"I wish I could say he wasn't." Klyn turned to her monitor, pretending to study the dots that represented fliers in order to hide her concern.

"Is Deva around?"

"Oh, yes. He's in his 'office'."

"Thanks. Try to keep an eye on things for me, will you? If Blake comes in, don't mention me. I want to surprise him."

Klyn smiled. "Good luck."

"I have a feeling I'm going to need it."

***

Deva's 'office' was the main computer room. As usual, he was muttering to himself and running computer projections. He had the unenviable task of simulating an outwardly legal business to cover their operations, while still serving as Blake's second in command. 

Gauda Prime did have one point in its favor. Since everyone was paranoid no one thought the security precautions Deva insisted on were peculiar. Not too many planets would allow a business to incorporate with nothing more than the name, "D.B.J. Industries" and a description of the company's concerns as 'utilization of global resources'. On GP, you could fill out forms with 'none of your business' and the names of famous spaceball players. So long as you paid your bribes and didn't cross anyone with more money or bigger guns everything was fine.Everyone assumed that D.B.J. was another crooked operation. They were rather admired for their sneakiness and the loyalty of their employees. 

"Jenna!" Deva looked more frazzled than usual, and pathetically glad to see her.

"What's Blake up to now?" she asked.

Deva shrugged. "Still hunting. But there's something else ..." He looked around to make sure they were alone, then whispered, "He's coming."

"Who... Avon?" Jenna felt a thrill run up her spine as Deva nodded. "How can you be sure?"

"I'm not, but there are indications. I put the message for Orac in the computer the day you left, along with a 'tag' to let me know if it was accessed. It was picked up later that same day by a system that left no traces. Orac is the only computer capable of that."

"So Avon knows Blake's here. Don't get your hopes up too high, Deva. He may not come."

"But he might. I've been running projections, trying to figure out what Avon's reactions will be, and Blake's."

"I don't envy you that job. What have you come up with?"

Deva frowned. "The psychological profile I created for Avon is tenuous. Assuming the best case scenario, Avon will be coming to join forces with Blake. The worst... well." Deva gave Jenna a sideways glance out from under his shaggy forelock. "He may blame Blake for having led him into rebellion, and be coming to kill him."

Jenna said nothing for a long moment. She was trying to remember Avon. When she first met the man, he wasn't even sure he could kill someone. He was a quick study, though, and in the two years since she'd last seen him, he'd had plenty of incentive to learn. The last time she'd known him he had the ability to kill his enemies readily enough, as she could, but could he kill his friends? Then again, the bits and pieces she'd gotten from Avalon told the story of a man who might not be able to tell who his friends were anymore. Blake had lost the ability to trust somewhere along the line, and Avon never had it. 

"We'll just have to cover all the bases," she said, firmly. 

"How?" Deva asked weakly. "Maybe we should tell Blake..."

"NO!" Jenna calmed rapidly, seeing Deva flinch. "Either Blake will trust Avon, in which case he won't allow us to take any precautions, or he'll plan one of his elaborate tests. I may not know Avon too well, but I do remember enough to know how he'd take that. Nasty. You wouldn't like to see Avon in a snit."

"What precautions can we take? Blake will find out and then we'll have to tell him."

"I don't think so. He's away most of the time, bounty hunting."

"Blake isn't going to like it when he does find out."

"If everything works out, he won't stay angry for long. And if it doesn't... well, we'll be too busy picking up the pieces to worry."

***

Having made up her mind, Jenna didn't waste any time. She made a special run for a particular item she'd long coveted, but considered too expensive. Under the circumstances, hang the expense. Returning to GP through the blockade was nearly as unpleasant as the first time, even after she cleared it with ground command. 

Using a rented cargo skimmer, and robot loaders, Jenna brought her purchases to the base. Some of them she left in the skimmer's cargo bay. "Blake!" she yelled on entering the tracking gallery. She was tired, and annoyed; in a fit mood to track Blake down in the woods if necessary. 

"Jenna." Blake came out of Deva's 'office', the red-haired man trailing behind. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing." Jenna swept her hair out of her eyes and glared at him. "I'm just a little irritated at having to run that blockade all the time. Those pilots are trigger-happy lunatics. They don't even wait for you to identify yourself."

"I'm sorry about that, but we do need the supplies. If we had another pilot as skilled as you, or another ship like Hatch, I wouldn't ask it."

"What really gets me mad is thinking one day I'm going to make that run for nothing. I'll be risking my life to bring you your supplies and you'll be lying dead in the woods somewhere."

"Then you'd be free to do whatever you liked," Blake growled.

"No, I wouldn't, and you damn well know it. I've waited a long time for you, and I won't be cheated."

"What do you want me to say, Jenna? That I'll be more careful?"

"No, you won't. That's why I bought this." Jenna signaled her cargo loader, and the machine came forward and opened the crate it carried. "It cost a fortune, so don't complain about the fit." She reached in a pulled out what appeared to be a pair of archaic 'long-johns' made of silver mesh. 

Blake took it. "A protective suit? I can't accept this, Jenna, not when my people are risking their lives without any special protection."

"Right. I figured you'd say that. That's why I bought enough for everyone on the base." She glared at Blake. "You will wear it. All the time. Or I will leave and take Hatch with me. If you are so suicidal that you refuse to do this, then there isn't any point in my staying."

"Don't get so worked up. Of course, I'll wear it. We all will. It was a very good idea, Jenna. Thank you."

Deva smiled, and winked at Jenna as he accepted his own suit.

***

A month later Jenna was restless, glad that Avon had not come and yet impatient for him to arrive. She needed more time to train her people. They were still stiff and awkward in their roles. They could only practice when Blake was off base and he'd taken to returning unexpectedly, as if he sensed conspiracy in the air. Lately he'd been telling his prisoners not only his name, but also that Jenna had died while running the blockade. He said it was to protect her, in case one of the Federation spies escaped. She suspected it was also meant as a sly dig at her, at her abilities as a pilot. And to say that she suicided was absurd and insulting. Besides the fact that Hatch hadn't any convenient 'self-destruct' button, she'd never quit in her whole life. 

On the other hand, if Avon took too long to get here, someone would be sure to let something slip in Blake's presence. Deva covered his nerves by harassing Blake even more about the bounty hunter routine, and Klyn was blessedly cool and self-contained, but the younger men were having a difficult time resisting the urge to confess all to their hero. 

She was sitting in her quarters, having a solitary drink to quiet her nerves, when the alarm finally rang, giving the sequence of shrill beeps that indicated the tracking gallery. She stared at it for several seconds before it sank in that this was it. She scrambled to her feet, and raced to the hidden compartment where she kept her uniform. She threw it on, grabbing the weapon beside it, and crammed her hair ruthlessly into the helmet. She was in the hallway, heading for the gallery in less than a minute after the alarm rang. Her people joined her along the way, clumping along heavily in their unfamiliar boots. Those of them that had the correct boots. In their haste some of them hadn't bothered to change their boots. Hopefully, no one would notice.

They skidded to a halt just beyond the gallery. She held her hand up for silence, and they panted as quietly as possible while their hearts pounded. She heard unfamiliar voices, then recognized Avon, and was that Vila? She smiled, remembering Vila. Avon couldn't be so bad if Vila was still with him.

She heard Klyn challenge them, and then a shot. Briefly, Jenna prayed to unknown gods that it hadn't been a head shot. Anything else the suits could handle. She also prayed that Klyn hadn't forgotten to wear her suit. It was difficult to stay properly paranoid, and they were uncomfortable. Klyn had switched on the intruder alert, and the wild whoops of the alarm and red lighting of the emergency system did nothing to calm her nerves. 

Then came Blake's voice. Oh, God,she'd forgotten to take one thing into account. What if Blake shot Avon? If Avon said the wrong thing, or one of his people made the wrong move this could be a slaughter. Blake would never forgive himself, or her when he found out her role in this whole thing. Avon sounded upset, on the ragged edge of control, and Blake, with that incredible, self-centered blindness he'd developed to a fine art on GP, was saying, not what Avon needed to hear, but what Blake needed to say. There was another shot, then two more, and she cursed, frantic to know what was happening, held back by knowing she had to wait for Deva.

There, finally, Deva's voice. Telling Avon they were attacked, so Avon would automatically shift into his protect mode, which had included Blake for so long that some remnants had to linger. Only, was it too late? That last cry of 'Avon' from Blake sounded very final. The plan. She had to stick to the plan. Give Deva a chance to say his piece.

Another shot? Why would anyone shoot Deva? The man never carried a weapon, and had a 'helpless innocent' aura that put Vila to shame. It was time to end this. She started around the corner, then halted, hand up to stop her men, as she heard yet another voice. It took her a moment to place it. The new 'recruit', the one who was so obviously a Federation spy that Blake had brought her back to play mind games with her. Damn him! He'd let her have a weapon. Suicidal wasn't a strong enough word for Blake, she thought grimly. And if Deva had died because of it, she'd never forgive Blake. Wonderful, they could both hate each other forever. There was another shot. The spy wasn't even trying to take prisoners.

Enough was enough. Jenna signaled her people forward. They were pathetically unconvincing crack Federation assault troops, as awkward as ducks in a shooting gallery, but there were too many of them for Avon's people. As per the plan, they feigned injury if shot, and took Avon's crew out with the stun rifles, then waited for Jenna's signal to take Avon. 

Jenna studied him through the safe anonymity of her darkened face plate. Avon was dazed; pupils huge and black, in shock, she decided, and even more unpredictable as a result. They gathered around him, circling him to prevent any escape, but he didn't notice, staring down at Blake. At Blake's bloody body. Blood! Jenna's heart skipped. Had he been wearing his protective gear? Then she recalled the nasty joke Blake had played on one of his 'prisoners'. He let the man get his gun, and shoot him. For added realism, he'd put explosive fake 'blood' packets under his vest, triggered by the sound of the shot. It must be that. It had to have been that. 

Someone shut off the alarms, and Avon lifted his head. His eyes were totally blank. He surveyed them, then looked back down at Blake. His gaze became puzzled, almost childlike, before clearing as he came to his decision. Jenna felt very bad about the whole thing when Avon carefully shifted his stance, protectively straddling Blake's body. 

Then he grinned, a wild, Berserker, join-me-in-Hell grin, and lifted his gun. He shot, getting the man next to Jenna. It seemed a clear enough signal to her people, and they fired back. In reflex, Avon got off several more shots before he fell, landing across Blake with a decisive thump.

Jenna pulled off her helmet, and surveyed the wreckage. "Shit," she said, succinctly summing up the whole mess. "All right. Sort them out. See who needs medical attention." She was already kneeling, pulling Avon off Blake to check him out. She sighed in relief. The explosive squibs had been too large, some of the blood was real, and he'd been knocked unconscious by the force of the close-range shots against his vest, but he wasn't really hurt. She closed her eyes for an instant, thanking those same unknown gods that she didn't believe in.

"Is he all right?" 

Jenna looked up. Deva and Klyn were standing beside her, worried. "Yes, Deva. He'll be fine." She wiped away a few tears. Funny, where'd they come from? "How are the others?"

"This one's dead. Broken neck, I think," said the man who was examining Arlen.

Jenna looked at the corpse and shrugged. "One less Federation spy." 

Klyn was kneeling beside Avon to check his pulse. "He's really out. Took a lot of charges."

The rest of them would come around soon, including whichever of them Arlen had shot. Fortunately, Blake hadn't been quite so far gone as to allow a Federation spy to roam the base with a fully-active weapon. Hers had been fused in the stun position, no matter what she set it to.

***

"Vila." Jenna had laid a bet with herself as to who would awaken first. The tall, young man had been well beaten up. It looked like he'd ridden down that wreck they found in Plantation 5. The women looked fit, but she'd put her money on Vila, for old time's sake. Avon was out of the running, in the medical unit under cardiac watch. The doctor said something about stress factors, abnormal blood chemistry, and the effects of multiple stun shots, before sedating him. 

That was fine by her. It would be much safer not to have Avon and Blake awake at once. It would also probably be safer for her not to be around when Blake came to. But she was not a coward. She would calmly and quietly explain to Blake what she had done, and how it was all for the best. And Blake would calmly accept it. 

Right. 

Alternatively, if she had Vila with her, it should distract Blake. Vila was very good at distracting people and taking the blame. Even for things he hadn't done.

"Vila!" she snapped, losing patience.

Vila's eyes flew open, big, brown, and terrified. He fell off the bed and rolled under it in one move.

"I see you haven't changed," Jenna said, amused.

Vila poked his head out from under the bed. "Jen...na." His mouth fell open, then snapped shut. "Uh. Hullo, Jenna. How's it been going?"

"Oh, you know, Vila. Same old routine." She grinned at him and after a long moment, Vila grinned back.

"Were you expecting us, by any chance?" 

"Well, now that you mention it..." Companionably, Jenna offered him her arm. He got up, and impulsively grabbed her, giving her a heartfelt hug.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he said. Reluctantly, he released her. "I wouldn't want Blake to get the wrong idea." He went pale and staggered. "Blake! How is he? I mean, is he...?"

"He's fine, Vila." Vila glanced around the room, saw Tarrant, Dayna and Soolin sleeping peacefully, and relaxed slightly. Then he tensed again. "Where's Avon?" 

"Recovering from multiple stun shots under medical observation. Would you like to come with me to see him?"

"Not particularly." Vila's eyes narrowed at Jenna's sweet tone. "You're being nice to me. I don't trust you when you're being nice to me."

Jenna smiled. "Then you ought to learn. Let's visit Blake. We have to get a few things straight."

"We?" Vila asked. "I didn't do anything. It wasn't my fault, whatever it was!" he wailed.

Blake had been right, Jenna thought. It was like a family reunion. No matter how much they fought, love was there too. She grinned, imagining herself explaining that to Avon. Oh, there were going to be some good times ahead. She linked arms with Vila, tugging him toward the hallway. "Blake missed you, you know. Especially Avon."

"That's nice." Vila was still nervous. "I'm glad Avon missed him, too."

Jenna laughed. Family. There was nothing like it.


End file.
